


Move to Castle

by redsnake05



Series: Castle [1]
Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Dubious Consent, Grief, M/M, Time - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-07
Updated: 2010-04-07
Packaged: 2017-10-08 18:46:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/78468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redsnake05/pseuds/redsnake05
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"So, that barmy old coot Dumbledore leaves a pensieve saying I'm going, and I'm going, is that it?" Ron faces the most unpleasant duty, one that will leave scars on him that sink deeper than any others.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Move to Castle

**London, Auror HQ, 2004**

"Look, I just don't see why I have to do it!" snapped Ron Weasley, folding his arms across his chest and staring stubbornly over Kingsley Shacklebolt's head into the shadows of his dimly lit office, as if hoping for an escape route from the situation he found himself in. The walls stared back, papered as always with memos boldly stamped in red.

Kingsley's voice was as placid as ever, his face grave. "Weasley, you've seen the pensieve memories. It is clear that it must be you. We all have seen you identify yourself to Dumbledore, report on your mission, and have seen you at various stages throughout the mission. You really have no choice."

"What happened to all that stuff in the training manual? Not messing with time? Not doing anything that could possibly muck things up?" Ron's voice was more desperate now, as he clutched at straws that may rescue him.

"We're not in a training situation now, Weasley."

Ron threw his hands up in exasperation, but the gesture was tinged with resignation, and he dropped his hands to his hips and sighed. "So, that barmy old coot Dumbledore leaves a pensieve saying I'm going, and I'm going, is that it?"

Kingsley's voice was gentle as he leaned back in his creaking old office chair. "Ron, we're not saying you have to go right now. You can have time, say goodbye and that sort of thing."

Lifting his eyebrows, Ron looked at Kingsley in some amusement. "To say goodbye? Before allowing myself to be sent back in time to seduce one of the two darkest wizards of this century?"

Kingsley's dark eyes mirrored his amusement and his lips quirked. "You make it sound so sleazy," he protested.

"Kingsley, the Auror Department is pimping me out to Gellert Grindleward on the recommendation of the memories of the nuttiest wizard known, who just happens to have been the lover of said dark wizard in his youth. How can we make that sound less sleazy?"

"Ron, we'll need a week to sort the time spell. Go and think about it and get ready."

"Fine," sighed Ron. He slumped into his seat, picking at the peeling vinyl with nervous fingers. "Come on, I'd best make a start at saying good bye to you, then."

Kingsley rose and skirted the battered desk, pulling Ron to his feet and enfolding him in his arms. Ron sighed into Kingsley's collar. "It's just, you know, I'd kind of hoped that all the crazy weird stuff would be over for me now. I mean, what am I going to tell Harry?"

"I'll be with you."

"Yeah, let's tell everyone about us, then tell them I'm off on a mission for the next several years."

Kingsley's arms tightened painfully. "I don't want to think about that."

"We have to think about that. I don't want to go."

"I don't want you to go," Kingsley admitted. Clinging to one another, they stood silently in the dim office, letting the dust motes flicker around them in the wavering candlelight, Ron's red hair splayed on Kingsley's white shirt like a scarlet flower. Kingsley's hands were gentle on Ron's back, holding him as if he might disappear any instant, instead of waiting for the time spell.

Sighing, Ron finally lifted his head from Kingsley's shoulder and stopped his finger from tracing patterns on his chest. Kingsley did his best to smile reassuringly, but the effort wavered. Ron nuzzled his face in, letting his lips brush over Kingsley's, before opening his mouth a little and inviting a kiss. Their lips met as tentatively as if it were their first time. Ron's head tilted slightly and Kingsley leaned in further, one hand pressing firmly into Ron's back and the other sliding into his bright red hair. Ron's long fingers delved into the open collar of Kingsley's shirt, stroking over his smooth dark skin. Sighing into the kiss, Ron pressed even closer. The kiss continued, causing Ron's head to spin with the dizzying sensation. Ron pulled back, gasping for air. Pressing their foreheads together, they caught their breath and let their hearts slow.

"I need a drink," whispered Ron.

Kingsley grasped one of Ron's hands and lifted it. He sucked and kissed and nibbled each one into his mouth, sliding his wet tongue over the freckled skin. Ron let out a soft keen of pleasure. Letting the last one slide from his mouth, Kingsley asked, "Am I invited?"

"Yes. Let's go home."

&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;

At Kingsley's flat, clothes were strewn in a haphazard trail down the hallway to the bedroom, where Ron was pressed against the wall, one long, bare leg flung around Kingsley's hips and both hands digging into strong brown shoulders. One of Kingsley's hands grasped Ron's hip, holding him steady, as the other attempted to push off his briefs without giving up on contact with Ron. Their lips appeared fused together as they kissed desperately. Kingsley finally got his briefs off and picked Ron up bodily. Both Ron's legs wrapped around Kingsley's waist and one hand slid down to rub against a nipple. Kingsley moaned into Ron's mouth and walked blindly backwards until his legs hit the bed. He tumbled down onto the soft sheets, wriggling blindly into the middle of the bed, both hands pressing Ron down against him.

Breaking the kiss, Ron smiled down at Kingsley, drinking in the sight of his dark skin against the cream sheets. "I love you," he whispered. Kingsley crushed him against his body and rolled them over, pinning him against the mattress.

"I love you," Kingsley grunted, digging under one pillow for the lube. "Every glorious freckled inch of you."

"Fuck me, Kingsley, I need you," Ron begged, wrapping his legs around Kingsley's hips again.

"Going to fuck you so hard," moaned Kingsley into his neck, finally getting the top off the lube. The tube crinkled under his fingers and the clear gel smeared over them. He prepped Ron and slid inside him with a low groan. Ron groaned in response and tightened his legs around Kingsley's hips.

Ron flexed his body under Kingsley's, head flung back on the cream cotton. Kingsley's dark lips pressed into Ron's long, pale throat and Ron moaned helplessly at the swift bite of teeth, clinging tightly to Kingsley's strong shoulders. Ron rocked under Kingsley, his body straining for orgasm. He came with a shout, come splattering between their bodies, and felt Kingsley come with a shudder and a low moan.

Kingsley rolled off him and gathered him against his side, pressing a kiss against Ron's temple. Gazing up at the ceiling, Kingsley said, "Say it for me again, Ron."

Ron nuzzled his sleepy face into Kingsley's shoulder. "I love you."

"I was just getting used to the idea of having you around," he said, eyes still fixed on the blank white plaster.

"Me, too. Don't say the next thing. I don't want to think about it."

"Neither do I."

"Let's just pretend it doesn't exist for now."

"Okay."

They curled close in companionable silence for long minutes, the low tick of the clock in the hallway counting off their minutes together.

&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;

Ron was pale under his freckles and he leaned both hands on the cracked cold porcelain of the hand basin. He hardly recognised himself in his dark robes from a more formal age, hair slicked back into the style of the time. His suitcase contained everything they could think he might need, and, if the spell worked, he should return as soon as Grindleward was defeated – two years from the time he left. He swallowed nervously and adjusted the collar of his robes once more before studying his reflection in the harsh glare of the Ministry bathroom lights.

Kingsley slipped inside the door and leaned against it. He looked almost grey under his determined expression, and Ron caught the anguish in his eyes. He strode forward and pressed against him.

"Will you be here when I get back?" he asked, voice wavering uncertainly.

"I'll be waiting for you," confirmed Kingsley hoarsely.

"I wish –" started Ron, but was silenced by Kingsley's finger over his lips.

"I wish too. I wish so much."

"It's time."

"I know. Have you got-?"

Ron fished inside his robes and pulled out the long chain Kingsley had given him only this morning. The gold ring winked brightly in the harsh lights. Kingsley captured it and lifted it to his lips once more.

"I love you, you know," Kingsley said.

"I know. I love you too."

The door shook as someone pounded on it and called a query.

"Coming!" bellowed Kingsley. He turned back to Ron and slid the chain back under his robes. "It's time."

"Time," repeated Ron, helplessly, lifting his suitcase and heading for the door. "It's all about time."

**Gellert Grindleward's chateau, 1945**

Ron woke to soft fingers carding through his hair. The vision of chocolate brown eyes and an anguished smile faded as his eyes fluttered open and encountered the lean, pale planes of his lover. He smiled, letting his lips curl into a sweet, inviting curve, and pulled him down for a kiss, losing himself in a curtain of wild blonde curls.

"That other life bothers you, my love?" questioned Gellert, voice low and intimate in Ron's ear as his talented fingers slip beneath red brocade covers to stroke over pale flesh.

"It always bothers me," replied Ron, sighing and laying himself bare to Gellert's questing fingers. "My dreams, haunted and stalked by the menace of a world without you."

"Did I die, then, this time?"

"No, this time the living death in your own prison."

Gellert shuddered delicately, fingers stilling in their exploration of Ron's shoulders and chest. "I would rather die outright," he exclaimed. "Can you not inform your subconscious of this?"

Ron twined one golden strand around a finger and tugged him closer. "Of all the things I could say to myself before sleep, 'please let Gellert be dead tonight' is not one of them."

"Oh, you do not wish me dead?"

"Not save that you die a little inside me," responded Ron, allowing his other hand to stroke down Gellert's back.

"I believe I have time to indulge us this morning, then we have work to do." Gellert leaned close, bringing their lips back together. Ron parted his and sought Gellert's tongue with his own. His hand left Gellert's hair and tugged at the ruby red covers until he could press against the lean body, so like his own. He felt Gellert's cock press into him and cupped it in his hand. Gellert shuddered and moved his lips to Ron's neck. "Do you want me to fuck you?" he whispered against Ron's ear. Ron shivered in anticipation and nodded eagerly. "Will you beg me?"

"I will do whatever you want," said Ron. "I am your slave." A wave of Gellert's hand and a wordless charm provided a palmful of slick oil. He pulled away from Ron and proffered it.

"Show me," he ordered. "Prepare yourself and tell me how you want me."

Ron groaned low in his throat, immediately slicking his fingers and pressing two against his entrance. "Gods, Gellert, I worship you. I love you. I kiss your shadow when I cannot kiss your lips, and even the sound of your footstep is music to me." He hissed in pleasure as he scissored his fingers inside himself, face drawn in concentration. "Your ideas fire my blood," he gasped. "Our blood, our destiny, our heritage. I could lose myself in you." A third finger was added and his eyes cracked open to see Gellert watching him avidly. "I need you. I glory in your passion and wit and will. I lose myself in my service to you. Take me."

Ron pulled his fingers free and reached for Gellert. "Please, Gellert, take me. Make me yours again." Gellert moved forward, bending Ron's legs back and slicking his cock with the remaining oil. Ron moved impatiently under him, but was stilled by Gellert's long slim fingers on his hips. Gellert slid forward, thrusting into him with one smooth motion. Ron keened softly in his throat, fingers twisting tightly in the heavy red covers, hair spilling wildly over the pillow in a dash of fire against wine. Gellert stilled, one fine hand twisting a handful of that red hair and using it to pull Ron's head back to expose his neck.

"Tell me," he commanded, "Tell me, least I stop."

"Oh, gods, oh gods, fill me up, spill your life into me," begged Ron. Gellert began to thrust in earnest, quick hurried strokes that shook the bed against the wall and caused Ron's words to tumble out in jagged little rushes of lust. "I love you," he gasped. "Please, Gellert, let me come."

"Touch yourself," Gellert directed, thrusting harder and more roughly. Ron insinuated a hand between them and stroked his cock roughly, moans and pleas spilling from his throat. His head tossed on the pillow and he relished the sharp tug of Gellert's fingers in his hair. His orgasm hit him sharply and he cried Gellert's name. Gellert thrust into him wildly, teeth clenched and face fierce in passion, before coming in a heart-stopping stutter. He collapsed on top of Ron and loosened his hand in his hair.

"I love you, my firecracker," he murmured at last. "You have had your wish and I have died a little."

"We die together," countered Ron, still breathing heavily.

"We must not die today, for I have work to do, and will require your assistance."

"Your very whim is my command, Gellert."

Gellert chuckled, the low, rich sound fitting in the ruby intimacy of the bed, and stroked Ron's hair. "I am not so capricious. I wish merely for you to take my dictation again." He pulled out of Ron and smiled a little ruefully. "But first, a bath, and the House Elves must deal with these sheets. Perhaps a change of colour is in order."

&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;

Ron set the quill moving as Gellert's rich tones rolled through the room as he paced the polished floors and plotted the greater good. Listening attentively, Ron sat straight in his green leather chair, eyes shining with admiration. Gellert's hands were a study in graceful motion, and Ron watched them with greedy eyes, trying not to remember how they played him like a violin. The scratching of the quill ceased some moments after Gellert stopped speaking and Ron looked up for further instruction.

"That it well," announced Gellert. "Luncheon, I feel, must be ready. Take the usual copies. This afternoon we visit Nurmengard." He laughed softly at Ron's shudder. "Still so susceptible?" he mocked gently.

"I had rather not visit it," agreed Ron.

"You may stay, if you wish it. I have other tasks you can be about. Dumbledore grows stronger and more impatient every day, and I have not the time to see to everything."

"If you wish it."

"I do." Gellert led the way to the dining room and seated himself gracefully at the head of the table. The snowy white napkin reluctantly shook out its starched folds and settled into his lap as Ron took the seat at his side. The Elves bustled about with dishes and Ron sighed with pleasure as the taste of capers and black pepper exploded onto his tongue.

Gellert forked a mouthful and smiled at Ron's face of satisfaction. "You are such a sensualist. I am lucky to have such an apt companion."

"I am the lucky one," said Ron simply. He laid his heavy knife and fork on the plate and reached for the wine goblet, pressing firmly into the crisp tablecloth. "I only wish to stay with you forever."

"Should our plans succeed, then indeed we shall. Time, my dear. We shall seize it."

"It's all about time," responded Ron, raising his glass in a silent toast.

**London, Auror HQ, 2006**

The wrench back was sickening and Ron landed with a thud on the floor of the nameless room he had left from two years before. He slumped on the cold stone, fighting for breath and waiting for the voice he had heard in his head every night. The deep, mellow tones rolled through his memory, and his whole body strained to hear them.

A gasp sounded from behind him. "Ron." The single syllable was more welcome than Ron could ever have imagined. He rolled over painfully and found himself pulled upwards and into a warm embrace. Hands shaking, he twisted his fingers into the familiar stiff white collar and breathed deeply the familiar scent.

"Did I-?" he gasped, the shakes moving to his entire body.

"You did it," confirmed Kingsley, voice warm and shoulder solid under Ron's cheek, arms a welcome anchor around him. "We need to debrief you."

"I did it," repeated Ron. "Oh, Kingsley, I did it."

"You did. I'm so proud of you. All the times seem to run smoothly, and everything is perfect."

Ron steadied himself against Kingsley's shoulder and looked at his face. The candlelight flickered across dark skin worn a little older, and eyes shining so brightly they almost hurt to look at. "Time," said Ron. "I'm so glad you're here, for this time."

**The Burrow, 2006**

Ron awoke with a jerk, sitting up in bed and pressing one hand to his heart in an effort to slow it. His other hand rested on the sheets and he slowly relaxed as he assimilated the feeling of soft, worn flannelette under his fingertips. He traced a half-seen flower with one finger and compared the homely pattern with the exotic designs he'd reclined against in silky brocade. He leaned back against the worn headboard in Percy's old room, now the guest bedroom and looked round the bare walls and faded carpet. Levering himself out of bed, Ron tugged the curtain back and perched on the windowsill. His old pyjamas were as worn and comfortable as the room, and for a moment Ron wished he'd bought one of the luxurious silk robes he'd worn in the chateau. He closed his eyes and imagined the light, soft material wrapping around him. He knew that his awkwardness, his unsophisticated pleasure in such simple, sensual gifts, had been a part of Gellert's interest in him. He ever was a teacher.

Ron's lip twisted, and he wandlessly summoned a pack of cigarettes from his cloak. A filthy habit, but one he'd acquired in his time at the chateau. Everyone smoked. His mind's eye provided an image of Gellert, one of those strong, white hands brandishing a cigarette in an animated diatribe, pausing to suck in a lungful of smoke and expel it with a laugh as Ron responded. For a moment he closed his eyes and expected to find that hand resting on his shoulder. He pushed the window open and drew in his first lungful of smoke as the cigarette ignited. The acrid smoke streamed out of his nose and mouth and eddied in gentle wisps out the window.

The door pushed open gently behind him, creaking a little on its hinges. "I didn't know you smoked," said Kingsley.

"I didn't," said Ron. "Another thing I picked up from my association with Mr Darkness himself. To go with my ambition to rule the world myself, I expect."

"I don't think you have any such ambition."

"Well it wasn't you asking me those questions, was it?" Ron dragged slowly on the cigarette. "What the hell was the Minister thinking, sitting in on my debrief and asking me those questions? I didn't agree to get sent back to be Gellert's fucktoy just so shits like him could wonder whether I'd been converted."

"I didn't know he would be there," said Kingsley. Ron hunched one shoulder irritably and took another drag on his cigarette. "I'm sorry." Ron pinched out his cigarette and pitched the stub into the silent garden below.

Ron shut the window and twisted to face Kingsley. "Are you here to arrest me?" he demanded.

"No."

"Good," said Ron, "I haven't been practicing my duelling with Grindlewald for nothing, you know."

"You don't have your wand."

Ron waved his hand and a silent charm had Kingsley pinned to the wall. "Don't tell the Minister," said Ron, pacing over to him, "I'd have to flee the country."

"Where did you learn that?" gasped Kingsley.

"I told you I'd been practicing." Ron waved his hand again and Kingsley stumbled away from the wall. Ron steadied him with one hand pressed flat against his white shirt.

"Thanks," said Kingsley. "I'll have you training new recruits when I get you back for the department."

"Am I going to be allowed back, then?" asked Ron. Kingsley slipped his arms around Ron and pulled him close. Ron went willingly, but remained tense in Kingsley's arms, looking up into his face, barely visible in the shadows of the room.

"No one doubts you, Ron."

"Except the Minister."

"You've always got a place with the Aurors, if you want it."

"And the Minister?"

"Set Harry on to him," suggested Kingsley.

"You're evil," said Ron, relaxing into his embrace. "Why doesn't the Minister investigate someone as obviously twisted and devious as you?"

"That's why you love me," said Kingsley, smiling. Ron tensed and pushed him away.

"Don't say that," Ron said, voice low. He walked back to the window and looked out at the trees whispering softly to each other. Gellert's slim hands clutched his shoulders and his rich voice whispered in his ear. 'They say I'm evil, Ron," it murmured. 'Do they say that in your head, too, in that other world?' Ron had nodded; voice a mere thread as he drew Gellert's head down. 'But I love you anyway.' Gellert had exulted in that damaged vulnerability. His kisses had been predatory, falsely gentle and cajoling, and Ron had surrendered to him.

Strong brown hands closed over Ron's shoulders, jolting him from his memories. "I'm sorry, I didn't know."

 

"Well, how should you know?" Ron asked, voice faintly bitter, eyes still fixed on the silvery trees.

"I want to know," said Kingsley, hands sliding up to stroke Ron's bare neck, rough fingertips dragging over soft skin. Ron turned, sliding his arms up and around Kingsley's neck. Kingsley's lips dropped to run over one of Ron's sharp cheekbones, then down to drag over his jaw. Ron angled his face and their lips met in a gentle kiss. Ron let out a long, shuddering breath and cupped the back of Kingsley's head, pulling him closer for a second kiss.

Kingsley's hands slid down Ron's back, curving over his shoulders and tracing the length of his spine before settling on his arse and dragging him closer. Ron slid one hand to Kingsley's buttons, then stopped. "Can I undress you?" he asked, voice soft and uneven.

"Please, Ron," said Kingsley. "Do whatever you like to me." Flicking the buttons open with one hand, Ron tugged Kingsley closer with the other hand, mouth nibbling and sucking along his jaw line. Kingsley groaned and thrust his hips forward, pushing their groins together. Ron dropped his face into the curve of Kingsley's neck, moaning softly at the contact as their hard cocks met. Ron tugged Kingsley's shirt free of his trousers and allowed his fingers to roam over the broad planes of his chest. Kingsley tugged impatiently at Ron's pyjamas.

"Let me touch you," Kingsley begged, voice rough and uneven. Ron pulled back and swiftly ripped the shirt off over his head. Kingsley swiftly unstrapped and discarded his wand holster and shrugged off his open shirt before pulling them back together. Ron's hands drifted lower.

"Can I?" he asked, fingers hovering over Kingsley's belt.

"Ron, you don't have to ask," said Kingsley. Ron bit his lip and slipped the buckle open, sliding the leather free from the metal clasp. Kingsley's hands pushed at Ron's pyjama bottoms as Ron slid the zip down and pulled the trousers open. Kingsley pushed both trousers and briefs down and kicked them off as Ron did the same with his pyjama bottoms. Kingsley stood back and looked at Ron with reverential eyes. "I've been waiting so long for this, Ron," he said. "I've thought of you every day. I've been visiting here for Sunday lunch just so I could be close to other people who love you."

Ron pulled Kingsley close and wrapped his arms around him, running them over the smooth dark skin. "Kingsley," he said, voice small and broken. He buried his face in Kingsley's neck and felt a tear trickle out. Kingsley's arms wrapped around Ron, warm and strong and sure. One hand stroked over Ron's red hair as he whispered soothing nothings into one ear. Ron sniffed miserably and breathed in the warm scent of Kingsley's skin. He smelled like sweat and a lingering breath of soap and deodorant. The simplicity of the smells was comforting. He sighed and nestled deeper into Kingsley's arms. "I'm sorry," he breathed.

"Oh, god, Ron, don't be sorry," said Kingsley. Ron pulled back and tugged Kingsley towards the bed. "We don't have to have sex," he said as Ron pulled him down on to lie next to him on the worn sheets.

"I want you," said Ron. He waved his hand and the door shut and locked, but the curtains stayed drawn, moonlight spilling silver into the room and over the bed.

"I want you, too," admitted Kingsley, "But I don't want you to do this because you feel you should or because I want to."

Ron sighed and wrapped around Kingsley before pulling away abruptly. "Can I touch you?" he asked.

"Ron, whatever you want is fine with me," said Kingsley. "I'm yours." Ron sighed and draped himself over Kingsley, tucking one hand under his neck and leaning in for a kiss that soon turned hard and desperate. Kingsley tugged Ron fully on top of him and grasped his skinny hips in his hands, thrusting up against Ron. Ron wandlessly conjured up a handful of gel and smeared it over both their erections, wrapping his long fingers around both of them. Kingsley groaned and tipped his head back. Ron stroked them together, softly, luxuriating in the slip and rub of their cocks together.

"Is this okay?" he asked, propping himself up on one elbow. Kingsley gazed up at him in the moonlight, eyes devouring his face.

"This is fantastic. Please, harder,' he begged. Ron picked up the pace and moved his hand a little faster and harder, making them both gasp. One of Kingsley's hands moved up and cupped Ron's cheek, rubbing gently over the curves of his face. Ron stared down at him, taking in Kingsley's skin glowing nearly black in the moonlight, dark against the soft green sheets, face tender and open and filled with such warmth. Ron came hard, shaking uncontrollably as he spilled over them both. Kingsley's hand wrapped around his own cock and stroked a few times before he came too, sinking bonelessly into the bed and moaning softly in his throat. Ron slumped against him, breathing hard.

After a moment, Ron pulled away and reached for his pyjama top where it lay on the floor, mopping them both up. Kingsley smiled and pulled Ron close against him. He pressed a kiss into Ron's temple and Ron sighed, eyes drifting shut. Ron curled up against Kingsley and slipped into sleep, only dimly feeling Kingsley pull the heavy quilt over them both.

**Gellert Grindlewald's chateau, 1943**

He doesn't look anything like a Dark Wizard, thought Ron to himself the first time he came face to face with Gellert Grindlewald. Ron, who had seen Voldemort in the flesh, and had shuddered and cried in his sleep for years afterwards, had never expected to feel the hard tug of attraction when he came face to face with Grindlewald. His mouth dropped open and he stood on the rug in front of the desk, feeling singularly foolish. Grindlewald had eyed him in some amusement.

"Not what you were expecting, young man?" Ron blushed hotly, shut his mouth, and stared at his shoes. He was on a mission, damn it. He glanced up and saw a flicker of lust play over Gellert's face. "Well, my man says you take passable dictation and play excellent chess. He did not say that you blushed so delightfully, but perhaps you saved that for meeting me face to face. Another quality I find desirable in my assistants." Gellert turned back to his work. "Take a seat at the desk by the window," he directed, flipping over a few pages in his book. "Get ready to take dictation."

Ron did as he was told. He'd arrived at the chateau a month ago, armed with papers and head full of carefully drilled preparation. Spending his days in Grindlewald's 'volunteer' section had proved instructive, and Ron had begun to hope that perhaps he wouldn't have to whore himself to the great wizard himself. He glanced up and found Grindlewald watching him, a look of amusement mingled with speculation and lust playing over his face. Ron picked up the quill and pulled the heavy, crisp parchment towards him, positioning it neatly on the smooth, dark wood.

He set the quill moving automatically as Grindlewald dictated, his mellow voice carrying smoothly across the room. Ron listened attentively, monitoring the progress of the quill, but found himself fighting distraction by Grindlewald's proximity. The man's robes flowed around him in a rich, smooth drape, the vivid red throwing into relief the paleness of his skin and the languid curve of his red mouth. He paced the floor like a predator. Ron shook slightly with fear – how could he possibly seduce this man?

His question was answered not much later. Grindlewald strolled over to his desk and stood behind him, reviewing the results of his dictation. Ron could feel the heat radiating off him. Transfixed by the white fingers flipping through the sheaves of parchment, Ron nearly missed the rich soft voice in his ear.

"Very good, boy," purred Gellert, resting one hand on Ron's shoulder as the other allowed the parchment to flutter back to the desk.

"Thank you, sir," said Ron nervously.

Grindlewald's rich laugh sounded low and menacing in Ron's ears at this proximity. "Now, now, no need to be so formal. You may call me Gellert when we are alone together."

"Thank you, Gellert." Ron stared straight ahead at the jar for quills, hoping it would provide escape.

"Stand up," ordered Gellert, tugging him to his feet and turning him around. The chair was sent out of the way with a careless wave of Gellert's hand in a wandless charm. Ron swallowed hard and fleetingly met Gellert's eyes. Eyes dropping, Ron struggled not to run. One finger tipped up his chin, and Ron found himself subject to scrutiny. He hoped his selective occulumency held up. Gellert moved even closer, standing so he barely brushed the front of Ron's body. "Let us understand each other, Ron," he said, voice as caressing as the fingers holding his chin. "My assistant has special duties. I find you most apt for the role."

"I am honoured," stammered Ron.

Gellert smiled. "Of course you are." He allowed the fingers of his other hand to trail down Ron's throat and the front of his robes. Ron closed his eyes and shivered, his mouth dropping open as an unexpected wave of lust travelled through him. He hated himself. A melodious laugh roused him from his self-loathing. "You are a natural, my boy. I shall enjoy this."

Ron struggled to open his eyes. He wasn't supposed to feel like this. Still, he could not stop his body from responding to Gellert's fingers as they slid open the buttons on his robes. He raised his arms, reaching for Gellert's head to pull him into a kiss. "Ah, the eagerness of youth, I see," said Gellert, amused, pushing his hands back to his sides. "Be clear, boy, that I am in charge here. You do not touch me without permission. You do not touch yourself without permission. You are my servant in all things."

Ron swallowed hard. "I understand," he muttered.

"Do you?" asked Gellert. "We shall see. Remember, you will be punished for breaking my rules." Ron nodded, and Gellert's fingers resumed their progress down Ron's buttons. Ron gripped the edge of the desk with both hands as Gellert's knuckles trailed teasingly over his exposed stomach. Ron's head tipped back and the fingers of Gellert's other hand left his chin and trailed over his throat and back up to card through his hair. Gellert pushed Ron's shabby robe off his shoulders, letting it pool around his hands. "Take it off," he ordered softly, "You will not be dressed in such cheapness again." Ron let out a low moan and complied, letting go of his grip on the desk to let the material drop to the floor. He felt more than ordinarily naked, standing in front of Gellert clad in only his shoes. Opening his eyes, he encountered a look of feral anticipation. He hastily toed off his shoes and gripped the desk tightly again. Those white fingers roamed his body, leaving Ron shaking. He clung to Kingsley's image in his mind, but Kingsley had always met him as an equal. Kingsley had never obliterated his will and held him captive like this. He gritted his teeth as clever fingers danced over his erection.

Gellert pulled back, away from his body, and Ron let out an involuntary moan of protest. His fingers lifted momentarily from their white-knuckled grip on the desk, but he remembered, and put them back. "Good boy," said Gellert. Eyes fluttering open, Ron found Gellert's robe unfastened down the front. He swallowed thickly in his throat at the sight of his erection. Gellert sank into the chair behind him, legs spread wide. "On your knees," he ordered Ron. Ron complied, dropping to his knees and shuffling forwards. He waited in front of Gellert for further instruction. "You are a natural," marvelled Gellert, wrapping his fingers in a chunk of Ron's hair. "So submissive. It warms my heart." He tugged Ron closer by his hair. "Suck me," he commanded.

Ron rested his hands very lightly on Gellert's hips, stroking down to cup his balls then tracing patterns on the smooth, strong thighs. His mouth teased the head gently, swirling his tongue round before dropping his head lower and taking more in. Gellert sighed in pleasure, leaning back in the chair but keeping one hand wound firmly in Ron's hair, letting the red spill over his hand. Ron sucked and licked assiduously, drowning in the smell and taste of the other wizard. Gellert's breathing quickened, and his fingers clenched tight in Ron's hair. At last, he tugged, pulling Ron's head from his groin. Ron left reluctantly, raising his eyes and waiting for instruction.

"Stand up, facing the table." Ron complied and was quickly pushed forward over the table, scattering his carefully stacked parchments. He reached to gather them, but changed his mind and wrapped his fingers around the far edge of the table instead as Gellert spread his cheeks and ran his cock over the puckered opening. Ron tensed under the sensation; briefly terrified that Gellert intended to fuck him without preparation. Gellert laughed softly. "Relax, Ron. You will not be punished today." One lubed finger probed him and Ron breathed deeply through his nose. His cock throbbed savagely and Ron longed to stroke it and give himself some relief. He did not doubt, though, that punishment would be swift and unpleasant. He pushed back on Gellert's scissoring fingers, craving more of the delicious sensation. Gellert added another and thrust deeper, brushing firmly against Ron's prostate. Ron moaned in helpless pleasure, face squashed into the desk, then groaned as the fingers were removed. They were soon replaced. Ron gasped as he was invaded. He revelled in the feeling, helpless; face down on the desk at the whim of Gellert, feeling his own lust rising strong enough to strangle him.

A sudden thrust had him whimpering. "Please," he gasped. A hand twined in his hair and jerked his head back.

"Silence," commanded Gellert. Fluttering his eyes open, Ron noticed a mirror in front of the desk that had not been there before. He abandoned the mystery of when it had appeared in favour of taking in the sight reflected in it. Gellert's robes were open, revealing his chest, and one hand twisted painfully in Ron's hair, holding his head up. Gellert's face was shining with bright lust, the blue of his eyes burning intensely as he thrust briskly. Ron squeezed his eyes shut as his prostate was pounded, biting his lip to keep from pleading for release. "Push yourself up on your hands," commanded Gellert roughly, tugging Ron's hair, "and watch yourself in the mirror."

Ron pushed himself up on trembling arms, lifting his head to watch his cock twitch with every thrust. The new angle pressed Gellert's cock over his prostate with agonising intensity with every surge, and Ron could not stop the soft keening that escaped his throat. Gellert's hand snaked round from Ron's hips to his aching cock and stroked over it. "You can come now," he commanded. Ron let himself go, struggling to keep his eyes open as his orgasm ripped through him from his toes upwards. He shuddered through the aftermath as Gellert's hand yanked his hair painfully hard as he thrust savagely into his own climax.

Ron supported himself on weakening arms. Gellert pulled free and turned him round, gathering him close against his chest. "Good boy," he crooned in Ron's ear. "You are truly a prince amongst assistants." His long, slender fingers stroked gently over Ron's back as Ron shivered in his arms. Ron felt dizzy and sick. He tried to remember that it was only a mission, but Gellert's clever fingers tilted his head up for a kiss and he felt himself slipping into it without reservation. His arms dangled heavily by his side; the heavy brocade of Gellert's robe brushed against him.

"Can I touch you?" he asked, voice sounding absurdly young. Gellert nodded, face creasing into a pleased smile as Ron ran shaking hands over Gellert's shoulder and hair. He buried his face in the collar of the robes. The smell was rich, complex, redolent of expensive potions and smoke. Ron shuddered. He didn't think he was fit for this task, but it was too late to back out now.

**The Burrow, 2006**

Ron woke early and leaned back against the scarred headboard. He really hoped Mum knew that Kingsley was here and didn't come bursting in with a cup of tea without knocking. Ron traced his finger over a bare shoulder, delighting in the dark chocolate skin. Kingsley mumbled in his sleep and moved, throwing one powerful arm over Ron's waist and snuggling closer. Ron smiled, a gentle, tender smile. Maybe he could take up that position at the training academy.

A knock on the door heralded his Mum, and he checked that the sheets were drawn up decently before wordlessly summoning his wand and unlocking the door. The tray bore a steaming pot and two sturdy, homely mugs in green. Molly trod over to the bed and placed the tray down on the bedside table. One hand reached out and smoothed Ron's hair back from his face.

"I'm so glad you're home," she said. Ron smiled up at her and glanced down at Kingsley, who was blinking embarrassedly up at Molly and tugging the sheets up to his chin.

"I'm glad to be home too," he said. "Where's the sugar?"

**Gellert Grindelwald's chateau, 1943**

Ron stood by the desk, enjoying the evening sun streaming through the huge bay window, and organising parchments for filing. He had reorganised the filing cabinets and book cases with a streamlined, colour-coded system that both did the job of keeping order and, more importantly, was completely unfathomable to anyone else. As he tapped a parchment with his wand and gave it a blue header and a yellow star and sent it to section 3e (Proclamations of Blood Purity) he sent grateful thoughts towards Hermione. The door opened with a slight whine. Ron was careful to always reverse the effects of the House Elves' attempts to eradicate the noise.

"Ron! As busy as ever! I don't know how my filing system managed until you came along," said Gellert. Ron looked up, pasting a smile onto his face. Gellert's face was an odd mixture of satisfaction and wildness and Ron's heart raced. "Are you ready for dinner?"

"Yes, Gellert. These can wait until the morning."

"Good boy." Ron tidied the desk and murmured _nox_ to the candles, plunging the room into twilight. Gellert strolled over to meet him by the desk. "You are a vision in sunset colours, my boy," he purred, running one finger down his freckled cheek and over the deep blue robes. Ron swallowed hard. Ten days since his elevation to assistant and Ron was still in a state of mingled self-disgust and fascination. Gellert's hand on Ron's elbow steered him out of the study and down the long hallway, flickering candlelight sending their shadows dancing on the panelled walls. Ron trod the thick carpet slowly.

Ron laughed out loud over dinner, carefully scraping his soup away from him as his mother had tried to tell him as a child and smiling his impish smile. Gellert smiled too, his eyes resting on his assistant with undiguised pleasure, crumbling the bread to bits in his fingers. At last, he rose from the table. "Our cloaks in the Entrance Hall in ten minutes," he ordered a house elf who scampered off to obey.

"A walk?" questioned Ron, smiling at him.

"No, we have an outing of another kind in store," said Gellert. "Wait for me in the hall." He pressed a kiss to Ron's lips, stained dark with wine. Ron involuntarily raised a hand to touch Gellert's cheek, leaving it hovering uncertainly. Gellert smiled and whispered into his ear, "You may touch me, Ron. Part of your training is learning when it is appropriate."

Ron trailed his finger down Gellert's neck and round to rest as lightly as a butterfly on his nape. Gellert nuzzled Ron's cheek and Ron turned his mouth, seeking a warmer kiss. He whimpered into it, acutely aware of the warmth of Gellert's body barely touching his, his robe suddenly heavy and rough against his skin. Gellert drew back, smiling as Ron's eyes fluttered open and looked up into his. He passed his fingers over Ron's lips and stepped back. "The hall, Ron," he commanded softly.

Dazedly, Ron turned for the door. Every time he saw Gellert, he fell further under his spell, feeling the dizzying rush of blood in his veins and the sweetness of surrender to him. He walked down the hallway and the stately, polished staircase, hand sliding over the shiny dark wood, mind spinning with fear and desire – fear that he might fail at his task, desire to have Gellert's hand on his face again, tipping it just so for a kiss that sucked out his breath. Ron perched on a window seat by the door and shook out a cigarette. He pushed the casement open and sent the first stream of smoke skittering out to the purpling sky. The very earliest stars twinkled down at him and he smiled up at them, wishing with all his heart that he could go home and not have to carry this burden anymore. Ron looked out to the lengthening shadows of the perfectly manicured garden and finished his cigarette.

Firm footsteps sounded on the stairs behind him. Pulling the window closed, Ron rose and turned, taking Gellert's cloak from the house elf who appeared with them and holding it out for the other man. Gellert inclined his head and accepted it, sweeping it around his shoulders and fastening the clasp. Ron swept his cloak on and waited for Gellert to lead the way.

They emerged into the courtyard of the quarters shared by Gellert's staff. Ron shifted uncomfortably on the seat he was ushered to, next to Gellert's side. All eyes were on them, and Ron could feel the weight of envious or contemptuous gazes burning into him. All eyes turned, however, as the door at the far end opened and two wizards Ron didn't recognise dragged a man into view. He struggled fitfully against them, dirty and bruised, barely able to walk, eyes wildly darting around the courtyard for escape. Ron glanced uncertainly at Gellert, to see his face set in stern lines. Gellert stood, and the broken man was bought before him.

"When you enter my service, what do you swear?" he asked, voice echoing around the deathly silent yard. The man in front of him was silent, shifting from one foot to another. "You swear honourable service to our great cause, our challenge, our mission. You swear to serve me in all things." Gellert indicated the man in front of him with one hand. "This man broke his vow of service. He betrayed our cause, he betrayed our fellowship, and he smirched his honour. We have our ways of punishing this betrayal. Prepare him."

The man began to shake and twist desperately as the men dragged him to the centre of the yard and tied him to a wooden frame. Ron felt his skin crawl as he looked round the faces of the dozen or so other men and women in the yard, as he looked at Gellert's face, reading the calm resolve there, the sternness and purpose. He shuddered. The others lined up and a heavy whip was produced. Each whistled it through the air and a blow was struck, breaking the skin and causing the man to scream in pain. Ron watched, eyes wide and horrorstruck, as they landed. Some were not so heavy, some ripped through the air enthusiastically. Gellert gestured Ron forward. Rising with heavy feet, he shuffled forward and accepted the whip in nerveless fingers. He looked at the bloodied back in front of him and knew this was the moment he had to truly accept his mission. He lifted the whip and bought it down hard across the ribboned shoulders. The man jerked and screamed in the thread of voice he had left, blood trailing thickly down onto the cobblestones like black rivers. Ron handed the whip to the guard nearest him and retired, wiping his hands on his robes. A hand on his shoulder stopped him. The white fingers gripped gently but implacably. "You shall strike for me, too," purred Gellert.

Ron's head whirled and he steped forward reluctantly. He felt again the pressure of eyes on him, watching in an anticipatory silence that made his skin crawl as he accepted the whip. He hefted it, seeing the blood gleaming on it's edge in the torchlight. The man was breathing heavily, sagging into his bonds, but he tensed as Ron stepped closer. "Please," he muttered, "please don't. I'll do anything, just don't hurt me again, please." Ron watched, sickened, as the man struggled futilely with his bonds. He lifted the whip quickly and bought it down with a sharp crack across the man's lower back. He knew that the man would not live through the night.

The whip was tugged from his grasp and he turned blindly away. Gellert's hand on his shoulder guided his steps back to the chateau. Ron followed his promptings numbly, only jerking back to reality as the bedroom door snapped shut and the candles flickered on, illuminating the heavy yellow bed coverings and curtains. He looked round wildly, catching Gellert's gaze, his lustful, predatory smile. It stripped him bare.

Gellert shrugged out of his cloak, letting it pool on the floor. "Strip," he ordered softly, settling into an armchair by the door. Ron's fingers seemed numb and he did not move, merely gazing at Gellert. "Do not make me tell you again," warned Gellert. Ron's mouth opened and closed dumbly.

Gellert pulled his wand from his pocket and Ron found himself naked and stretched face down on the bed. He struggled against his bonds, harder as he felt the bed dip beside him. "I warned you that my word is law, and I will not tolerate disobedience, did I not?" Silence. "Answer me, boy."

"Yes, Gellert, you did," rasped Ron, the sweat starting to bead on his back.

"And now you discover what punishment is, do you not?"

"Yes," answered Ron, tensing for the first blow.

"I do not glory in pain, Ron, but sometimes these punishments are needed." His voice sounded sad, almost plaintive, and his hand was gentle as it ran the whip over Ron's back. "Why did we perform the punishment tonight?"

"He betrayed our cause." Ron licked dry lips and tugged again on the bindings.

"And why are you here, tied to the bed, instead of free?"

"For disobedience."

"Good boy. Such a quick learner. I think five strokes will do for you. Count them."

Ron tensed in anticipation. The first blow knocked the breath out of him, the stinging following a moment later as tears leaked from the corner of his eyes. "One," he squeezed out from between gritted teeth.

The blows followed in a leisurely rain, laying strips down his back. Ron's voice cracked on some blows, wavered on others. The last one fell and Ron collapsed into the mattress, tears soaking into the rich yellow coverings. Gellert waved his wand again and Ron was free. "Roll over," ordered Gellert, voice implacable. Ron's back screamed against the movement, but he turned. His back protested again against contact with the brocade, but he automatically grasped his legs as Gellert bent them back. His eyes were wide and teardrenched and met Gellert's in in trepidation as the man ran his thumb over Ron's opening. Ron's mind whirled as his back stung and throbbed, and the slow first push of Gellert's slicked cock into his body was torture. Ron bit his lip hard enough to bleed, staring up at the face above him. Gellert smiled tenderly and ran one thumb gently over Ron's streaked face as he snapped his hips in a vigorous thrust. Ron gasped, his body betraying him as he felt the faint stirring of interest in his cock, even as his back chafed on the yellow broacde.

"Oh, my boy," murmured Gellert, pressing Ron's legs back further and rocking his hips to achieve maximum pressure on Ron's prostate. Ron groaned, hands trembling as they struggled to hold his legs back. "You are a delight," Gellert continued softly, bringing a thumb stained with Ron's tears to his lips and tasting it. Ron bit back a sob as Gellert's gentle thrusts continued to arouse him, despite the pain and revulsion convulsing his body. Gellert stared into his eyes, hands gently roaming Ron's body as his thrust gradually grew harder and faster. Ron moaned helplessly as those clever fingers tweaked his nipples. Gellert's thrusts quickened, battering Ron and leaving him weak and moaning. Ron saw his face twist with passion and felt him shudder deeply inside Ron.

Ron drew a deep breath as Gellert pulled out and let Ron remove his hands and drop his legs to the covers. Gellert was breathing hard, sweat beading on his chest. He pushed Ron's thighs open and looked at his cock, straining erect in its nest of curls. "Touch yourself," ordered Gellert. "Make yourself come for me." Ron bit his lip and reluctantly moved his hand. He desperately wanted to come, but also wanted to flee a thousand miles, or, better yet, sixty years, from this place, this bed and man in front of him. Gellert watched, his face tender and shining with lust as Ron complied, dragging his hand quickly over his cock, shuddering at the sensation. Ron came almost immediately with a shudder and groan and collapsed back on the covers, back reminding him of the night's work.

Gellert gathered him close, nestling him into his chest , stroking his flame bright hair and whispering in his ear. "Come, my boy, I'll look after you," he murmured. Ron sniffed, jumbled thoughts warring in his head. The need to complete his mission surfaced, jostled to the top like a piece of flotsam That resolve enabled him to snuggle closer, whispering words of thanks and love to Gellert, who purred in satisfaction, leading Ron to the bathroom and shepherding him through a bath and some healing charms, then back to bed.

Ron stood by the bed, yellow coverlet as pristine as ever. Gellert's hands folded over Ron's shoulders and his face nuzzled into Ron's neck. Ron let out a shuddering breath. He'd seen what Gellert would do, and didn't doubt that fate was in store for him if he slipped. His resolve hardened and an image of Kingsley's anguished face, the night he left London, swam in front of him. He was getting through this. Turning in Gellert's arms, he raised his face for a kiss, shivering as the fingers trailled down his cheeks and neck. He shyly pressed his hardening body against Gellert and received an encouraging chuckle.

"Oh, Ron," purred Gellert, "you are just what I needed. Let's go to bed."

**Kingsley's flat, 2006**

Ron hesitated outside the door, raising his hand to knock the battered wood, then lowering it again. He sighed. He hated feeling this weak, as if he couldn't make simple decisions for himself. As he lifted his hand again, the door opened. Kingsley paused in the act of sweeping his cloak over his shoulders, surprise on his face. Ron looked down at his feet. "I should go," he mumbled.

Kingsley reached out to him. "No, don't go," he said. "I was just coming to see you."

"Really?" Ron's eyes lifted to Kingsley's face, trepidation warring with hope.

"Yes, really," said Kingsley gently. He opened the door wider, standing aside as Ron slipped in. He shrugged off his cloak, frowning a little as Ron took it and hung it up before taking his own cloak off. Ron caught the frown and immediately a fearful look flitted across his face. Kingsley reached out to brush a finger over his lips and smiled reassuringly. "You don't have to do things for me, Ron."

Ron shrugged nervously. "It's a bit of a habit now," he said.

"I can tell," said Kingsley. "Come and sit on the sofa and I'll make the tea."

Ron perched on the sofa and slowly relaxed back into the cushions. Kingsley's flat was cream and off whites and browns, the furniture a little worn and shabby. Ron could relax here, not feel gangly and awkward and callow in elegant splendour. Kingsley reappeared with the tea tray and served practical mugs and biscuits still in the packet. Ron relaxed further into the welcoming softness.

"I'm glad to see you," said Kingsley. "I keep wondering if perhaps it's been a dream and you haven't come back. Sometimes I dream that you're never coming back." Ron turned his head to see Kingsley devouring him with his eyes, face soft and almost shy. It made him feel braver.

"I was so scared I might not make it back," admitted Ron. "Every day I was terrified I was going to mess it up and be killed."

Kingsley shuddered visibly, face stricken. "It was hard, being here and wondering and worrying, but being there – I can't imagine it. How alone you must have been."

"He was always around. I was hardly ever alone, and never without some task to do."

"That's not what I meant. Not physically alone."

"Well, no, it's a bit difficult to be a fucktoy and be physically alone." Ron's lip twisted in a bitter sneer that faded to a wry smile as he looked at Kingsley, reading remorse and worry on his face.

"I'm sorry," said Kingsley, then winced. "That's so inadequate."

Ron gave a short laugh. "It's not your fault. The one whose neck I'd love to wring is that old conniver Dumbledore. I'd like to piss on his grave."

"I'll see if I can assign you a duty that takes you to the area and you can slip off for a moment."

Ron laughed wholeheartedly, eyes shining with amusement and Kingsley followed. Ron's whole body relaxed into the sofa cushions and he sprawled back, cradling his mug in his freckled fingers. He stared into the amber depths of his cup, face pensive. Kingsley sipped his tea and waited for Ron to speak.

Ron looked up, blue eyes shadowed. "It's really hard, being expected to make decisions. It's really scary. I'm scared of getting things wrong, of being punished for assuming too much."

Kingsley nodded slowly. "Is that why you ask? Before you touch me?"

Ron swallowed hard. "Yes. It was one of his rules. And instant obedience and waiting for direction." He met Kingsley's eyes frankly. "And I'm ashamed, too, because I liked it." Ron waited nervously for Kingsley to speak, seeing him open and close his mouth a few times.

"Ron, do you – I mean, if you want…" He paused, and Ron could see him fighting for words. "Oh, hell. Ron, I love you. That hasn't changed. Since you've been back, I love you even more, every day. I want you. I want you however you need things to be."

"I love you," whispered Ron, voice low and tortured. "I thought of you every day, dreamed of you every night. And I don't want things to be like that between us."

"Then we'll do whatever you need, to make things right," said Kinglsey, voice sincere and face open and pained. Tears stood in his eyes, mirrored by Ron's. Hands shaking as he took another sip of tea, Ron thought for a moment, then set his cup down with decision.

"I need…" he trailed off, but bought his eyes up to meet Kingsley's. "I need to be an equal partner here."

"How about, to start with, you take control tonight? You make the moves, tell me what to do."

Ron swallowed and his eyes dilated almost black in the dim light. "I'd like that," he said.

Setting his cup down on the table, Kingsley leaned back and spread his arms wide. "I'm all yours," he said.

"Take off your clothes," said Ron, voice cracking on the command. Kingsley stood and slipped off his wand holster, placing it carefully on the coffee table. He popped each white button out of it's hole, slowly baring his chest. His skin gleamed against the white cotton and Ron devoured it hungrily with his eyes. Kingsley slid the shirt off his shoulders and tugged it roughly from his trousers before dropping it to the floor. He unbuckled his belt and pulled open the fastening of his trousers, slowly lowering the zip. Ron's gaze took in the soft mat of hair over his chest, trailing down his stomach and disappearing under the waistband of his pants. Kingsley slid his thumb under the elastic and slipped pants and trousers off together, revealing his heavy, muscled thighs and cock stirring half hard against one of them. The trousers dropped to the floor. Kingsley toed off his shoes and stepped out of them, reaching down to pull off his socks before standing straight in front of Ron, waiting for his next move.

Ron's eyes raked over Kingsley and he licked his lips. He gestured to the other end of the soft cream couch. "Lie down." Kingsley complied, stretching out over the worn material and displaying himself for Ron's gaze. "Touch yourself, but don't come," he said.

Mouth dry, Ron watched Kingsley run his fingers through the hair on his chest, teasing one nipple then the other, before playing down his stomach and feathering across his cock, teasing it to full hardness. Ron stood up, lifting his t-shirt and pulling it over his head. Briskly unbuttoning his jeans, he pushed them opened and rubbed his cock through his soft boxers. He toed off his sneakers and pulled off his socks before thrusting his jeans down his legs and kicking them off. He kneeled down on the couch, pushing Kingsley's thighs further apart to position himself between them. One finger traced a path up one thigh, enjoying the shift and tremor as the finger moved.

"I want you to suck me," Ron said, voice unsteady.

Kingsley groaned deeply, head tipping back on the armrest. He licked his lips. "How?"

Ron climbed over Kingsley's body, resting one knee on the armrest. His other foot rested on the floor, and he tilted his pelvis to present his cock to Kingsley's mouth. Kingsley looked up at him and licked his lips again. "Can I touch you?" he asked.

Ron nodded, head tipping back in pleasure as Kingsley's big hands grasped his arse and squeezed, bringing him closer. His tongue lapped at the head of Ron's cock, sliding round it in slow circles and flicking over the sensitive spots on the shaft. He glanced up again as he engulfed the head in his mouth, taking in the smooth, creamy, freckled planes of his stomach and chest, the lazy, half-lidded blue eyes staring down at him. He slid down a little and took Ron's cock in as far as he could. Ron's head tipped back and he let out a low keening wail. Kingsley sucked harder, digging his fingers in to encourage Ron to thrust into his mouth. Ron rocked in and out, enjoying the smooth slide of mouth over skin. He felt good, strong, powerful. He looked down to see Kingsley's eyes blazing up at him. Kingsley looked so strong, too, so sure and comfortable. Ron's legs began to shake, so he gripped the back of the couch tightly. He was moaning continuously now, the sound punctuated with half words and broken endearments. Ron came hard, thrusting into Kingsley's mouth. He half collapsed over him before stumbling back to rest against the cushions at the other end.

"Ron, please," panted Kingsley. He gestured toward his hard cock. "Can I?"

Ron nodded, watching with sated eyes as Kingsley took himself in hand and stroked quick and hard, eyes locked on Ron with that hungry look. It took only moments before Kingsley came with a strangled shout, spilling all over his stomach. He dropped back against the cushions, breathing hard. After a moment or two, he reached for his wand and cleaned his stomach and hands. Ron crept forward and crawled up over Kingsley's body, settling against him in a warm, tight embrace.

"Are you okay?" asked Kingsley.

"I'm great," said Ron, sleepily. "That was sexy. I felt like we were equals."

"I love making you happy."

"I'd like to sleep here, with you. That would make me happy."

"That would make me happy too. Shall I carry you?"

Ron chuckled. "No, but you can help me up."

Kingsley manoeuvred them both off the couch. "Can I hold you?" he asked.

"Yes," answered Ron, "I'd love you to hold me." He pressed against Kingsley, wrapping his long arms around his shoulders and pressing his face into the warm curve of Kingsley's neck. Nuzzling his mouth into the salty-tasting skin there, he smiled as he felt Kingsley's strong arms around him, simply holding him close. This was something Gellert would never do, and Ron felt stronger, more grounded, than he had for a long time. He breathed deep and placed warm kisses along Kingsley's jaw, teasing his way up to capture his lips in a soulful kiss. "Let's get horizontal with this," said Ron. He laughed as Kingsley hoisted him up against him and strode down the hallway.

**Auror Headquarters, London, 2003**

"Ron! Is that report ready yet?" demanded Kingsley, poking his head into the office Ron shared with Harry and three other junior aurors.

"I'll have it in your office in two minutes!" called Ron, scribbling frantically at the very end of a long report. Kingsley snorted and left, leaving Ron's colleagues to shake their heads sympathetically at him.

"Shall we wait for you at the pub, mate?" asked Harry, pulling on his heavy red cloak.

Ron shook his head. "Nah. I'll almost certainly have to rewrite bits of this, and who knows when he'll let me get away."

"You've been having a really bad run lately, haven't you?" asked another. "You weren't having to stay behind all the time for rewrites until about three weeks ago, were you?"

"No, I don't know what's happened," said Ron distractedly, the tips of his ears turning red. Harry looked at him thoughtfully and ushered the others out. Ron hurriedly finished the sentence he was on, checked that the actual report was there as well as the additions he had just been writing, and headed down the hallway.

He shut the door behind him and leaned against it. Kingsley glanced up, face amused. "Can't you think of a better excuse to stay behind than not finishing your paperwork?" he asked.

"You're the senior auror, you think of a better excuse." Ron dropped the report and addition on the desk and folded his arms. Kingsley picked the additional paper up and read it. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Ron began to smirk. Kingsley looked up.

"Ron, this is unfinished," he said.

"Do you want to know how it ends?"

"Oh, yes."

"Well, the senior auror finishes stripping the junior auror and they fuck on the Minister's desk."

"I like the sound of that. Can we practice on my desk?"

Ron waved his wand and his clothes crumpled to the floor beside him. Kingsley practically vaulted the desk and pulled him close, hands roaming everywhere over soft, pale skin. "Ron, you're adorable. You're funny and cheeky and an arse…"

"I have an arse, you mean," interrupted Ron, and the rest of Kingsley's speech was lost in a heated exchange of kisses. Ron pushed Kingsley backwards onto the desk and laughed as he fumbled with his buttons and hoisted Ron on top of him at the same time. This was magic.

**The Burrow, 2005**

Molly poured more tea into Kingsley's cup from the pot and pushed the milk jug towards him. Kinglsley added a splash and rested his elbows on the table, tracing one finger over the rim of his mug. The Burrow was settling into the still after Sunday lunch. Arthur in his shed, pulling apart a new muggle device, the children all gone home or out on their brooms. The house was empty and quiet in the afternoon sun. Kingsley smiled ruefully at Molly as she settled at the table with her own cup of tea. "Thanks for having me over so often, Molly," he said.

"Nonsense," she said, choosing a biscuit and sliding the plate down the table to Kingsley. "We're always happy to see you here, and you'd be coming with Ron, if he was around, wouldn't you?'

A shy smile lit Kingsley's face. "Yes, I expect so. But I'd expect him to do his fair share of fussing over the babies."

"We can't help it if the babies love you, Kingsley," said Molly. She smiled at him fondly and patted his hand. "I like it when you come around. It helps me believe that Ron's coming back. Sometimes I think maybe he's out in the orchard with the others, and any moment he'll burst in the door."

"Completely filthy and windswept, and he'll pounce on the biscuits and devour the lot," agreed Kingsley. "I think that too, sometimes."

Molly patted his hand again. "You really miss him, don't you?" she asked.

"Yes, I really do," agreed Kingsley, looking down at the table.

**Auror Headquarters, London, 2006**

The archives were a warren of towering stacks, haphazard boxes and tottering piles of parchment. Everything smelled like dust, and dust rose in little flurries as Ron's feet marched the aisles. Even with a map, the locator spell, and the knowledge that Kingsley knew that he was down here, he was still a little nervous about delving into the maze of records, evidence and junk. What the hell was a muggle phone box doing down here? And why was it blue? He had thought those things were always red. Shrugging, Ron redirected his attention to the map. He was supposed to be finding a box of records for an old experimental charms case.

He looked up at the vast row of shelves. According to the map, this row contained records of crimes committed under the Experimental Breeding Act of 1509, in which the chief witness had a first name starting with a letter between N and Z. Hell, were some of those boxes moving?

The dust eddies marked his trail further into the archives. Several stacks, staircases and chambers later, he found the shelving that supposedly contained the case he was after. If this didn't turn out to be essential to the case at hand, he was going to strangle his partner.

He slowly scanned the labels on the fronts of the boxes, the tags hanging from mounds of parchment. According to the map, everything here was filed chronologically by the birth day and month of the investigating Auror, but it seemed that it was chronologically according to the Ancient Assyrian calendar, which changed from year to year, so evidence from the same auror would be filed in different places if submitted at different times. He sighed. The name on a label jumped out at him. His name. He was pretty sure he'd never submitted evidence to this part of the archives. Curious, he pulled it out and opened it. He recognised the angular script immediately. Staggering backwards, he slid abruptly to the floor, sinking his head between his knees in an effort to stay conscious.

It had never occurred to Ron that there might be records of his time with Gellert. But, if so, what were they doing in Gellert's handwriting? He steadied himself and pulled the top sheet out, tilting the paper to catch as much as possible of the inadequate lighting.

_My dearest boy,_

They tell me I cannot see you, or write to you, yet do not stint me paper or ink. So I shall write, hoping that you may yet get to see my words to you, even if I cannot say them to you in person, while wrapped around you like a quilt against the cold, dark world.

I miss you. Your hair was a fire in my days, and I remember how I used to sink my hands into it and warm myself at your flame. Your eyes speak to me on the days I see blue skies. A small square window provides me with my only view of the world outside, and I treasure those cloudless days that remind me of you. Your eyes were equally without flaw, as clear and truthful as those skies. When you looked at me with trust and hope and passion, I trembled.

I tremble now for my failure – of my designs, but also of my failure to keep you warm and safe. I hate to think of what may have befallen you. Are you now alone and friendless, in a world gone grey and threadbare? Do you think of me?

I like to think you do. I like to think of you, sitting, as you so often did, on the windowsill, eyes fixed on the sky, thinking of me. Perhaps we are looking at the very same stars. Perhaps tonight I will look up at Venus, when she appears in my little window, and hope you are doing the same, wherever you are.

I want you to be happy. It has always been my wish, since I first saw you blushing on my rug, clad in those rough robes and cheap shoes that chafed your feet. Have you had to go back to them? I wish I could have wrapped you in the silks and brocades you deserved forever.

You delighted my every sense, dear Ron. Your delight in the senses delighted me, and I enjoyed every moment of your awakening to your true potential. When you were stretched out beneath me, shaking and shivering against me in your need; oh, but you were beautiful. Your body would cling to mine, and sometimes I would not know where you ended and I began, save for the freckles that paint your skin with delicious cinnamon. You would curl against me in your sleep and I would curl against you, two kittens seeking comfort. Or you would duel with me, fierce and focused as a tiger, then submit with delicate grace to my ardour for you.

How I miss you, to warm my confinement and lift my heart with your smile, so innocent and lustful by turns. I shall think of it often, as I pace my cell, as I read those books permitted me, and as I lie back on my empty bed. I can only hope I shall see you again, and call you my own once more.

Gellert.

Ron leaned his head back against the stack behind him, paper gripped tightly in his fingers. The box was full of parchments, all in the same angular script, all with his name at the top. Tears trickled through the dust on his face. Ron had no idea how long he had sat there, hunched over on the grimy stone floor, before footsteps signalled someone approaching. He rubbed his hands over his face, leaving smears instead of tracks, and lifted his head as Kingsley rounded the corner of the stack. He saw the look of concern sharpen into anxiety, then Kingsley dropped to his knees and he was folded in warm, strong arms. Ron pressed his face into Kingsley's chest and wrapped his arms tightly around his waist. Stroking his bright hair, Kingsley looked into the box beside Ron and his face tightened more when he realised what they were. He waited for Ron to stop shaking.

Ron leaned back slightly and looked up into Kingsley's face. "You saw?" he asked, voice quivering.

"I saw," confirmed Kingsley. "I had no idea these existed."

"Look at them all," said Ron. "It's – he must've written – I feel sick, thinking of him, thinking of me, all those years." He shuddered. "All these years – it's as if it's happening now, for me."

"I know," said Kingsley, tightening his arms. Ron scrambled to his knees and pressed himself against Kingsley. He pressed a kiss into Kingsley's neck, sliding his arms up and around his shoulders, drawing his face down for a passionate kiss. "Ron," said Kingsley, protestingly.

"Kingsley, I need you. I need this. Please," he said. Kingsley looked into his face and read the resolve and desperation there.

"What do you need?" asked Kingsley, hoarsely.

"Fuck me," he asked.

"But-" started Kingsley.

"I know we haven't done that since I got back, but I need this, Kingsley. I love you, only you. I need to belong to you." Ron's eyes started to tear up. "Now, please."

Searching Ron's face again, Kinglsey was apparently satisfied with what he saw. He swept Ron against him, burying his hands in his hair and kissing him fiercely. Ron kissed back, digging his fingers hard into his shoulders. Kingsley's kiss devoured Ron, mouth hungry and demanding. Ron met and equalled the passion, running his fingers down to Kingsley's belt and ripping it open. They wrestled out of their clothes, leaving shirts hanging open and trousers pushed down. Ron toed off his shoes and kicked his trousers completely off. He gasped in pleasure as Kingsley conjured a palmful of lube and slid one finger inside him, head tipping back. Kingsley nuzzled into his throat as he stretched and scissored his fingers inside Ron. Groaning, Ron thrust down on the invading fingers. Kingsley nipped roughly at Ron's throat as he added a third finger, twisting his hand and brushing past his prostate. Ron's whole body jerked in pleasure.

"Enough," Ron groaned. Kingsley drew his fingers out reluctantly, and looked up into Ron's face. Ron turned, bracing himself against the next stack. "Here. Now, please." Kingsley pressed against his back, lips dragging up the back of his neck and fingers grasping Ron's hips. Ron twisted just right and felt the slow breach of Kingsley's cock inside him.

"Merlin!" groaned Kingsley, teeth scraping over Ron's nape, cock inching slowly into Ron's arse. Finally sheathed, he gave a roll of the hips, feeling Ron clench around him. "I'm yours, Ron," he breathed, "I'll do whatever you need, whatever you want." He thrust sharply, eliciting a keening wail from Ron. Thrusting again, Ron rocked back against him.

"Harder," ordered Ron. "I want you to fuck me so hard I feel you for days." Kingsley gripped Ron's hips and pulled them into a better angle, pounding hard. Ron sobbed in pleasure, fingers curling into the stack in front of him. Kingsley buried his face in Ron's neck, mouth moving in jumbled words of love, interspersed with kisses and bites. His hand slid down, around Ron's hip, to close on his cock. He stroked hard, Ron thrusting back onto his cock, forward into his hand. Ron could feel him trembling behind him. Blood singing in his ears, Ron felt tears squeeze from his eyes as his orgasm started to roll through him. He dimly heard Kingsley groan in completion behind him, thrusts growing wild. He splattered all over Kingsley's hand and collapsed against the stack, Kingsley pressed against his back.

Ron's sobs ground out of him. Kingsley spun him around with gentle hands and folded him close, stroking his hair and down his back with gentle fingers. Ron tilted his head back and looked up, blue eyes swimming with tears in a grimy face. Kingsley smiled gently and stroked his thumb down one cheek. "You always do what I need," Ron said, smiling weakly.

"I'll always do what you need," confirmed Kingsley, pressing a gentle kiss to Ron's cheek. Ron snuggled close for a moment, leaving Kingsley looking over his shoulder. Ron pulled back as laughter shook Kingsley. Looking at him in concern, Ron shook his shoulder.

"Kingsley, what are you laughing for?" He followed his pointed finger to the box, lying abandoned on the floor, covered with dust. Ron looked closer and saw a pearly splat of come staining the parchment. Kingsley propped his arm against the wall and laughed till his stomach ached. Ron looked at him, then back at the box. His lip twitched. He looked at Kingsley again, now with tears streaming down his face. Stepping close, he hugged Kingsley tight, laughing along with him.

Kingsley finally sobered and looked at Ron nervously. Ron smiled sunnily back at him, face shining through the dirt. Ron traced a finger through the dust adorning Kingsley's face. "Thanks, love," he said, softly. "Now, let's put these back on the shelf and think of a reason why we've been down here so long."

"I am your boss, and a senior auror," announced Kingsley. "We are leaving immediately on an important briefing errand that will take the rest of the afternoon."

"Fantastic." Ron batted his eyelashes. "I love it when you abuse your status for me."

Kingsley chuckled, bent, and threw Ron's underpants at him. He straightened, pulling his trousers up and swiftly buttoning them as Ron hopped on one foot to pull his pants back on. "Are you sure you don't want to take the letters?"

"No," said Ron, "I'm not sure, but we're going to leave them here anyway."

"If you say so," said Kingsley. He looked ruefully at his shirt, now filthy with dust. "How are your dust banishing charms?"

Ron grinned and pulled on his trousers. "They'll do for us to sprint to the apparition point."

"Hurry up, then. We have an important briefing to get to."

**Kingsley's flat, 2006**

Ron was nestled against something warm and firm that felt fantastic under his fingertips and cheek, like heaven against his cock. Ron rocked his half hard cock against the delicious source of friction and slowly came to full consciousness. Kingsley moved back against him and moaned sleepily. Ron nuzzled his face into Kingsley's back and smiled. Stroking one hand over the planes of Kingsley's stomach, Ron opened his eyes and yawned. Kingsley was still drowsing, soft and warm and backed up flush against him. Ron snuggled even closer, rocking his hips and rubbing his cock against Kingsley's arse. Another sleepy moan heralded Kingsley's waking and Ron pressed soft, open-mouthed kisses along his neck and shoulders.

"Feels like heaven," Kingsley mumbled drowsily, unconsciously echoing Ron's own thoughts. Humming in agreement, Ron stretched like a cat and pushed his groin harder into Kingsley. "Do what you want to me," he murmured.

Ron luxuriated in the feeling of control and belonging. Kingsley wanted him and trusted him and loved him. He wriggled down Kingsley's body, encouraging him to turn fully onto his stomach, and kissed his way down the smooth chocolate curve of Kingsley's spine. His hands traced patterns over skin and muscle, causing Kingsley to relax even further into the yielding bed. Reaching Kingsley's arse, Ron parted his cheeks with his thumbs and licked a hot trail down the cleft. Kingsley moaned into the mattress. Ron zeroed in on Kingsley's opening, licking all around and over it, listening to the soft sounds Kingsley made. Losing himself in his task, Ron concentrated on tasting Kingsley and making him feel good. It felt wonderful to be giving Kingsley this gift, freely and without restraint. He pushed his tongue inside and listened to Kingsley's voice break.

Kingsley's body was shuddering under his when Ron finally pulled back, wiping his mouth on his forearm. Kingsley craned his neck, looking up at him with heavy lidded eyes. Ron draped himself over Kingsley's back, propping himself up on one elbow and claiming Kingsley's lips in a kiss. Kingsley hissed and pulled back from it after a few moments, shifting his hips restlessly against the soft white sheets and inviting Ron to thrust against him. Ron moaned gently, nipping Kingsley's ear. Rolling away, he fumbled for his wand on the bedside table and whispered a lubrication and preparation charm. Kingsley groaned softly, fingers digging into the sheet, as Ron stretched out over him again. As Ron's cock slowly filled him, Kingsley whimpered and squeaked with pleasure.

Ron pressed his face into Kingsley's back and linked his fingers with Kingsley's as they clutched the sheets. He set a slow, torturous pace, teasing them both. Kingsley whimpered and moaned, face pressed into the sheets, mouth open and gasping. Ron worked Kingsley's neck and shoulders with slow, hot kisses.

"The friction," gasped Kingsley, hips rocking involuntarily against the sheets. Ron shifted slightly, dragging Kingsley's hips up and sliding a hand underneath. A wordless charm coated it in lubricant, and Kingsley sank into the slippery warmth with a contented groan. Ron echoed it, face buried in Kingsley's nape.

The change in angle was exquisite torture. Ron felt his whole world coalesce into bright, sharp images: the clench of Kingsley's fist in the white sheets, the scent of their bodies in the cool morning air, the skin salty under his lips, the gentle moans and gasps they made. Clearest of all was the feeling of the body underneath his, yielding to him, dragging him in further. Ron could feel his orgasm approaching, no matter how hard he tried to prolong the pleasure.

"Going to come," he moaned. Kingsley grunted, rocking his hips up in a particularly enticing gesture. Stroking Kingsley's cock more firmly, Ron thrust a little harder and faster. He grinned as he heard Kingsley groan in response, then gasped. Kingsley shuddered underneath him, body convulsing and come gushing over Ron's hand. Ron thrust hard through the convulsions, feeling his orgasm rip through him.

Ron drifted for a while, slowly coming back to awareness of Kingsley's languorous body beneath his, his breathing slow and even and contented. Ron pulled away slightly, shushing Kingsley as he made a protesting noise, settling back against him, wrapped around him. Ron snuggled his face into the curve of Kingsley's shoulder and hummed in contentment. Making love with Kingsley was beautiful, and Ron always felt so warm, so safe, so adored when he was with him. His mind drifted over how they shared the power and control in their relationship and he felt warm right through. He slipped his hand over Kingsley's chest and felt his heart beating warm and strong against the palm. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to slip back into sleep for a few more minutes.

A furious tapping on the window roused them before the alarm. Kingsley levered himself from the bed with difficulty, stumbling over to the window and relieving the supercilious owl of its burden. He shut the window on it and slouched back to bed, absently scratching his arse as he broke the seal with his other hand. Ron rolled over on the pillows and blinked up at him. Kingsley swore softly.

"What's up?" inquired Ron.

"The Minister wants to see us both in his office, early," responded Kingsley. He threw the parchment on the bedside table and climbed back onto the bed.

"How early?" asked Ron, face and body suddenly tense with nervousness.

"I don't care," replied Kingsley. "I have to have a shower. I had the most glorious dream in the night that this incredibly sexy red head with the most stupendous cock in the world licked my arse until I was shaking, fucked me till I couldn't even think, and then squashed me into the mattress."

"Really?" asked Ron, face breaking into an impish smile. "Because I had a really similar dream, except mine was that I was in bed with this totally hot, muscular black man with the tightest, most luscious arse in the world."

Kingsley grinned and propped himself up on his side. He ran a hand down and gave his own arse and experimental squeeze. "Is that right? Luscious?"

Ron tackled Kingsley and wormed his way around to bite the arse in question. He pulled back. "Totally luscious, you prat," he said. "Now, shall we have that shower?"

"Not just yet," replied Kingsley, pulling Ron down to lie on top of him.

**Gellert Grindelwald's chateau, 1945**

Gellert's robes swirled around him in a flurry of rich brocade as he paced the study floor. His hands moved in expressive circles and his voice rolled around the room – Ron was recording one of his more passionate speeches, and the quill dragged in a faint scratch over the parchment.

Finally, Gellert's voice drew to an end and he sank into a wing-backed chair in front of the desk. Tidying the parchments and setting the usual charms on it, Ron busied himself with ordering them, taking covert stock of Gellert. He looked thoughtful, dragging his thumb over his full bottom lip. "Tea?" asked Ron, looking up openly from the parchments.

Gellert smiled up at him. "That would be lovely, my boy. You have such a knack of anticipating my wishes."

"I have made quite the study of it, Gellert." Ron clicked his fingers for a house elf and ordered a tray for the window nook.

"Indeed, my dear." Gellert smiled. "You are the most diligent assistant I have ever encountered. Before the tea finds us, I must ask: have you ever made a study of the protective magic of death?"

Ron looked up sharply. "I am afraid not, Gellert. Is there something specific you wish to know?"

"Yes, there is. I shall give you the details, and leave the research to you, my dear boy. I have other duties after tea. Dumbledore grows yet more importunate on my borders, and I have much to see to."

"I have so little time to spend with you, Gellert," said Ron, "but seeking answers for you is nearly as satisfying."

Gellert laughed, face lighting up. "Is that a veiled complaint for my neglect of you, last night? You grow bold, Ronald."

Ron blushed and hung his head, peeping up at Gellert through his eyelashes and hoping that he had not overstepped his boundaries. "Come here," ordered Gellert. Ron skirted the desk and dropped to his knees in front of him. Gellert twisted a lock of hair around his finger and tugged him closer, making Ron shuffle on his knees over the thick rug. Leaning down, Gellert captured Ron's lips in a searing kiss. Ron's hands clenched by his sides and he swayed closer, giving himself up to the kiss. Gellert broke the kiss, leaning back in the chair. "Unfasten my robes," he directed. Swallowing, Ron moved his fingers to the clasps and opened them one at a time, slowly revealing Gellert's white skin. It glowed against the rich green satin of his robes. When the robes hung completely open, Ron looked up, swallowing hard at the look on Gellert's face – a subtle mixture of lust, just a little feral.

Tugging on Ron's hair again, Gellert urged his face closer to his groin. Ron gulped and nuzzled up one long thigh, licking over a hipbone, before taking Gellert's cock in his mouth and sucking slowly around the head. He bobbed his head and took long, deep swipes with his tongue, coaxing Gellert to full hardness. Ron's own cock stood hard under his robes, but he dared not reach for it. Ignoring his own need, Ron concentrated on sucking Gellert, tongue roving busily round the head. Groaning low in his throat, Gellert bought his other hand down to tangle in Ron's hair, holding him in place as he fucked his mouth. Ron moaned, desperately aroused and yearning for release. He sucked and licked as best he could in time with Gellert's thrusts. Gellert growled and twisted his hands so tight that it hurt. Ron welcomed the pain distracting him from his own urgent need. With a hoarse shout, Gellert came in a bitter flood on Ron's tongue. Ron sucked him gently through the aftermath, easing away as Gellert released his hair.

A finger hooked under his chin bought Ron's head up. Gellert smiled. "I should leave you until tonight, my dear. That might teach you some patience." Smiling at Ron's stricken expression, he bent forward and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. "However, I am feeling generous today. Take off your robes." Ron hastened to comply, the deep blue velvet falling open and revealing his body. "Stand up." Ron hastily slipped his shoes off as he stood, awkwardly displaying himself to the gaze of the wizard in front of him. Gellert chuckled. "Will you never rid yourself of these insecurities, Ron? I like to look at you." Gellert stood and pressed his body against Ron's. Biting his lip, Ron fought not to rock into the delicious friction. Gellert kissed him slowly, lips hot and full of promise. Ron trembled as Gellert's hand ran down his chest, tracing over a nipple, rubbing circles on his freckled stomach. Head spinning with desire, Ron whimpered into the kiss and clenched his hands tightly by his side, resisting the urge to touch himself, knowing that to make a move would merely result in Gellert stopping completely and denying him release.

"Good boy," murmured Gellert, mouth moving over Ron's neck, leaning back to take in the desperation in his face. The fingers moving lightly over his cock were torture to Ron. "Let yourself go." With a sob, Ron closed his fingers around his weeping cock, Gellert's fingers moving up to pinch Ron's nipples. A few strokes was all it took. As Ron choked out a groan, Gellert's hand dropped back to cover Ron's, collecting a handful of sticky fluid. He presented his hand to Ron's lips, and Ron lapped it clean as he slowly recovered and his legs stopped trembling.

"Dress," ordered Gellert, "and tea. I have work for you to do. A good job will result in rewards later."

&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;

Ron shut the book in front of him, resting his elbows on the smooth leather writing surface of the desk and staring at the far wall. The shadows had lengthened and the gloom of evening dulled the rich colours of the walls, painting everything in greys. Ron was certain he'd found what Gellert wanted to know, and also certain that he'd found what Dumbledore wanted too. This was the information he'd sent him here to pass on. Staring sightlessly at the wall opposite, Ron considered his next move.

Passing this information onto Gellert would almost certainly result in Dumbledore's defeat, or, at the very least, prolong this conflict. Passing it on to Dumbledore would result in Gellert's imprisonment. Ron would be free.

His mental processes abruptly stopped. Free. Did he have that concept anymore? Gellert – Ron wasn't sure that he had that concept at all, even for himself, let alone for Ron. Ron tried to remember the last time he had been free. Unbidden, an image of himself on a broom at the Burrow appeared in his head. Ginny had swooped at the goal, quaffle tucked tight under her arm, intent on a goal. Ron had saved it, throwing it off to Kingsley, who swerved and dodged a determined attack from George. Ron's heart was light as Ginny dove into the fray and the two Weasley's scrimmaged with Kingsley. Harry suddenly swooped down to break up the scrum, followed closely by Charlie, and the scrum disintegrated into a free for all. Ron had laughed, delighted, as Kingsley had fought his way out of the tangle of limbs, streaking towards the hoops. His eyes squeezed shut and his hands clutched the book closely.

Breathing deeply, Ron steadied himself. This was a job. Gellert was the dark wizard here, and betraying him was Ron's duty. He wasn't supposed to have gotten so involved with Gellert, so attuned to his desires, so alert to every shade of mood and intent. Footsteps sounded in the hall outside, and Ron quickly pulled another book on top of the original one and waved a lumos to the lights. They flickered into brightness and Ron painted a smile onto his face as Gellert strode into the room. Ron looked at him, taking in the strength of purpose, the iron will, and the controlling command in his every gesture.

"Did you find anything, my boy?"

"No, not a thing," answered Ron. "And my eyes have gone quite blurry with the effort."

"A pity. However, my duties shall take me far from here tomorrow also, and you will have plenty of time at your disposal for research."

"Every minute will be well spent in hopes of pleasing you."

Gellert walked to Ron's side and tilted his chin up. He leaned down and pressed a possessive kiss to his lips. "You are a delight, my dear boy. I love your spirit, and your surrender."

"I love you, Gellert," replied Ron.

Another kiss was pressed to his lips, with just a teasing touch of tongue, gone before he could even open his lips in submission to Gellert's desire. "Let us dine. When we have eaten, perhaps another appetite may be assuaged."

**Ron's flat, 2003**

"So, uh, you don't mind?" asked Ron, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. Harry punched him gently on the shoulder.

"Are you happy?" asked Harry

"Yes."

"Does he treat you right?"

"Yes."

"Are you going to snog in front of me?"

"Depends. Will you be walking into my room without knocking?"

"Merlin, no! Will he give you ridiculous jewellery to wear?"

"I doubt it. You're being ridiculous now."

"Ron, I've known for a while."

"You've what?" squeaked Ron, hands clutching in his hair. "How did you know?"

"Ron, your reports were flawless. You mainlined Hermione's nagging for years. You had to be staying for another reason. And Kingsley's pretty hot."

"Fantastic. Don't tell him you already knew, or I'll be back in training to work on stealth and concealment."

"Sure," agreed Harry. "But don't you think you should Floo call him and let him know that it's safe to come over?"

Ron nodded in agreement and hurried from the kitchen. Tossing a handful of powder into the grate, he leaned his head in. Kingsley was nervously pacing his lounge.

"Do I have to demote him?" he asked anxiously.

"No, come over and listen to the game. It's all good."

Visible relief washed through Kingsley, and he followed Ron through the grate. Ron smiled and steadied him as he came through and stumbled slightly on the rumpled, worn rug in front of the fireplace. Kingsley reached out and pulled Ron close, burying his face in Ron's neck. Smiling, Ron tilted his head up for a lingering kiss.

"What?!" squeaked Harry, from the doorway. "You said I wouldn't have to see snogging!" Ron turned his head to see Harry levitating a tray full of drinks and snacks, standing stricken in the doorway with a look of mock horror on his face. Kingsley sucked in a nervous breath, and Harry smiled. "Although, it is kind of hot. Next time, can I have a view of Kingsley's arse while you do that?"

"No one looks at Kingsley's arse but me," announced Ron, tugging Kingsley to the sofa and pointedly ushering him to one corner. Kingsley laughed and pulled Ron down next to him, slinging his arm around his shoulder.

"Are those roast peanuts?" he asked. "Harry, stop waiting for a free show and bring them here."

**Nurmengard, 1997**

"This was a fucking stupid idea," said Kingsley, stamping through the snow up the path to the prison.

"Yeah, and when we get back, I'm going to piss on Dumbledore's grave and the Minister's grave," replied Ron.

"The Minister's not dead."

"He will be," promised Ron.

They stomped in silence, the black shadow of the walls gradually creeping over them. "When we get back," said Kingsley, "I'm thinking of leaving the Aurors."

Ron stopped dead in the middle of the path. "You're telling me this now? Now? When I'm about to go and question the man I lived with for two years, the man I fucked and betrayed? Have you no sense of timing?" He looked at Kingsley, arms spread wide.

Kingsley turned to face him. "I guess this isn't the moment for a proposal, then?" he asked.

Ron's face creased into a reluctant grin. "You bastard," he said.

"I just wanted to tell you, so that you know, so that you know I won't be party to any more of these absolutely fucking moronic ideas that involve you and unpleasant experiences."

"You romantic old dog," said Ron. "I think it's a great idea, and I've been thinking it too, but let's just get through this first, okay?"

Kingsley stepped forward and took Ron's hand. "Are you sure you're okay to do this?"

His answering smile was crooked, but Ron squeezed Kingsley's hand and nodded. "Just, let me handle it, okay?"

"That's what we agreed," said Kingsley.

"Even though I betrayed him, I did care about him too, and it's going to be hard to rip out his heart and stomp on it, particularly at the orders of that revolting little creep of a Minister."

Kingsley's eyes squeezed shut. "It's hard," he said, "so hard to hear you say that, but you're here with me, and that's all that matters to me." Opening his eyes again, he looked at Ron, a sad little smile playing over his mouth. "So, I can't punch him, is that right?"

"Yes, barbarian, that's right. Haven't you been listening to my Mum's lectures on physical violence?" Ron stepped closer to Kingsley and hugged him tight for an instant. He pulled away. "You're freezing!" he exclaimed. "Let's get you inside."

&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;

The guard turned the key and ushered Gellert into the Ron. Ron, seated at the table, gasped in shock. His eyes roamed over this greying man, seeing more a fading, bookish academic in incongruous bright robes than the dark wizard who had haunted his dreams and held him under such thrall.

Gellert stopped in the doorway, eyes fixed to Ron. His mouth opened a few times, but no sound came out. The guard prodded him in the direction of the chair and he sank into it, staring like a starving man. He gulped. "You look like a dream," he said. "Where did they find someone who looks so like my boy?"

"Gellert, it's me, Ron."

"Impossible!" Gellert glanced around the room quickly, as if seeking a more reasonable explanation. "I've been waiting fifty years to see Ronald again, and he couldn't be a stripling any longer."

"Gellert, I was sent back in time, to spy on you."

Gellert gripped the edge of the table, fingers turning white with the force of his grip. "Is it not enough that I am imprisoned, deprived of my vision and goals for this life of books, theory and solitude, without being mocked by the Minister?"

"Listen to me," said Ron, his voice a little desperate. "The last night we were together, before the battle with Dumbledore, you wore blue silk robes the colour of a summer sky, and we ate my favourite foods at dinner. Then we went to bed, where you made love to me with all the passion of which you were capable. Do you know what you said to me, that night, before we went to sleep?"

"Yes," whispered Gellert, "It never leaves my mind."

"You said you loved me, and never wished to leave me, and wanted to keep me safe and close to you forever."

"And you said you loved me too, and wanted nothing more than to stay by my side."

"I know I did. And then I left, went back to my own time." His gaze flickered to Kingsley for the first time, standing like a rock against the wall. Meeting Kingsley's eyes, he took heart in the love and support he saw shining there. Gellert followed his gaze.

"It now becomes clear," he said, voice harsh and back straightening. "Betrayed, and by one so close to my heart! The bitter knife of that manipulator Dumbledore, I perceive."

"Gellert, I didn't ask for any of this," said Ron, desperately trying to explain, automatically taking on the pleading cadences of a servant. Gellert's lips smoothed just a little on hearing those tones, and Ron nearly cried. Six months was not long enough to rid himself of that instinctive response. He looked at Kingsley again, seeing nothing but love and support and determination in his face. He steeled his resolve and turned back to Gellert.

"So, my boy, what did you come here for? Was it realy at the request of the Minister, or did you wish to see me again? Behold, I am old, but not yet toothless."

"At the request of the Minister," said Ron firmly, fixing his mind firmly on Grindelwald now, this faded academic, not on Gellert, the irresistable man of his mission.

Gellert tried again, voice slow, mellow, with just a hint of inflexible command in it. "Let's drop this charade, my dear. You have returned to me, and that is the important thing. A suitable repentance, then you shall take your place beside me again."

Ron shok his head. "Leaving aside the folly of taking up residence in a prison, it is impossible."

"Nothing is impossible for us together, my boy," said Gellert, voice now turned cajoling.

"I would not leave my life for you, Gellert."

Gellert's eyes flickered again to Kingsley, taking in the solidity of his pose, the subtle relief shining in his face at Ron's declaration. "I see. Does he control you better than ever I did? Was I too gentle with you, my boy? Did you wish to be a slave rather than a companion?"

"Gellert, I wish for nothing from you, anymore. And my relationship is nothing to you, but I will say that I am no man's slave, nor yet a possession. You could never understand that."

Gellert's face was grey, shock and dismay written on it. "But, you said-" he stopped.

"Let's just get to these questions, Gellert," said Ron.

Gellert rose from the table. He motioned to the guard. "I find I have nothing more to say to you." Ron made no move to detain him, letting him sweep from the room in a swirl of robes. He stared blankly at the door for a moment, the cold grey metal seeming to signal the end, finally.

He turned to Kingsley. Standing, he opened his arms and Kingsley's solid warmth was pressed against him in an instant. "We're handing in our resignations the instant we get back," he whispered in Kingsley's ear.

"Agreed," said Kingsley, burying his face in Ron's neck.

"And we're never doing anything as fundamentally stupid as this again."

"Agreed."

"And if anyone ever so much as mentions this to me again, you have to hold me back so I don't kill them."

"Maybe. You might have to hold me back."

"I feel better though."

"I'm glad."

"I never thought I could ever feel sorry for him," confessed Ron.

"Neither did I."

"Let's go."

"Like a shot," agreed Kingsley, reluctantly letting Ron go and taking his hand instead.

As they walked down the snowy path, the shadows of the black walls fading behind them, Ron turned once and sought the topmost tower, where a single window glowed yellow. He wished Gellert goodbye in his heart.

**Kingsley's flat, 2006**

How was job hunting today?" asked Ron, placing the last covered bowl on the table as Kingsley shrugged out of his jacket and toed off his shoes and socks.

"Well, if I wanted to buy a set of academic robes, Minerva offered me the Defense against the Dark Arts job." He looked over the bowls on the table. "This smells delicious."

"Forget about the food, did Minerva really offer you the job?" asked Ron, wiping his hands on a teatowel.

Kingsley grinned and swept Ron into a warm embrace. "This must be exciting news," he teased, "for you to forget about food."

Ron laughed and kissed Kingsley hard, twining his arms around his neck. "It's fantastic news," he said. "In fact, it's so amazing I almost dread telling you about my job offer, in case it seems boring by comparison."

"Are you excited about it?"

"Definitely."

"Then it won't seem boring to me," Kingsley promised.

"Good, because Minerva offered me the Charms position, after Flitwick announced his retirement."

Kingsley's arms squeezed so tightly that Ron squeaked. Smiling wildly, Kingsley spun them both around, fastening his lips to Ron's in a passionate kiss. Ron returned it with fervour, wriggling up against Kingsley's body and wrapping his legs around his waist. Kingsley propped him against the table and continued kissing him, hands roaming over his back and teasing under the edge of his t-shirt.

"Am I going to have to get used to wrestling you out of robes?" Kingsley murmured in Ron's ear, propelling the t-shirt further up.

"Minerva says we don't have to wear robes all the time," Ron replied, wrenching the t-shirt over his head and groaning as Kingsley's broad hands roamed over his chest. Ron's fingers fumbled Kingsley's buttons open and spread over his chest, carding through the thick mat of hair and teasing over his nipples. Kingsley pushed away from the table for a moment hastily unbuckling his belt and pushing his trousers down. He knelt down, unbuttoning Ron's trousers and easing the zip down, nuzzling along the waistband of his boxers as the flesh was exposed. Trousers and boxers were pushed to the floor and Kingsley swallowed Ron's cock in one smooth swallow. Ron gasped, shutting his eyes and tipping his head back in a long, low moan. Kingsley swirled his tongue around the head, fingers digging into Ron's hips. Ron's hands ran over Kingsley's head, fingers rubbing gentle circles. Kingsley drew back.

"Turn around," he ordered. Ron faced the table, bracing himself on the rounded wooden edge. Kingsley's tongue delved into his cleft, licking with broad swipes around his entrance. Moaning, Ron pushed back against Kingsley, removing his hands from the table to spread his own cheeks wide. Kingsley's tongue delved into Ron, hands coming up to stroke over his thighs and balls in teasing strokes.

"Melin, Kingsley, need you to fuck me," moaned Ron, swaying on his feet. "Got to have you inside me." Kingsley kissed his way up Ron's back, biting into the back of his neck.

"Can you do the charm?" he asked. Ron turned in his arms, concentrating on the wandless charm that had him slick and prepared. Kingsley lifted Ron onto the very edge of the table, urging him to wrap his legs around his waist. Kingsley worked his way into Ron with short, shallow strokes. Mouth open, Ron dug his fingers into Kingsley's shoulder and sighed with pleasure, rocking his hips and urging Kingsley deeper into his body. Nuzzling his lips along Ron's shoulder, Kingsley teased them both with slow gentle thrusts.

"Oh, I love you, Kingsley," moaned Ron, steadying himself on the edge of the table.

Kingsley thrust a little deeper, hands digging hard into Ron's hips, lips moving over Ron's neck in slow, hot kisses. He leaned up, pressing his lips under Ron's ear. "I love you," he whispered. "I love your bravery."

"Love being equal to you," moaned Ron. "Love how you take care of me."

"Love how you match me," whispered Kingsley.

"Love how you fuck me," Ron whimpered, "Harder. I can't wait any longer." He slid backwards, propped up on his elbows on the shiny dark wood, scattering cutlery and napkins. Kingsley thrust hard, sliding in and out of Ron's body, causing them both to moan. Sweat beaded on his collarbones, sliding down his chest as he drove them both closer to the edge. Kingsley reached it first, coming with a wail of surrender. He dropped to his knees and sucked Ron hard, bringing him over the edge with a rush and a shout. Kingsley staggered to his feet and pulled Ron into his arms, leaning them both against the table. Ron's arms wound round Kingsley's neck and they steadied their breathing together.

An embarrassed cough from the lounge startled them both. Ron peeked over Kingsley's shoulder to see a very red-faced Harry Potter looking down at his shoes.

"Harry!" Ron squeaked. "For Merlin's sake, go and hide in the coat closet while we put some clothes on."

"Uh, I'll just go to the bottle store. You, um, yes." With a pop, Harry disapparated and Ron sagged back into Kingsley's arms.

"Aside from the terminal embarrassment, are we all good?" asked Kingsley.

"I'll have to add him to my list of people to kill. Right after the Minister."

"Surely we could just obliviate him."

"Yes, I guess so. And the Minister really did us a favour by sending us back to see Gellert, so perhaps I'll just have the twins product test him instead."

"I love you," said Kingsley.

"I love you," sighed Ron, chin digging into one of Kingsley's shoulders.

"I love you more."

"Actually, I love you more, but let's not argue any more. I think I've had enough of Harry ogling my boyfriend's arse. Let's get dressed."


End file.
